Jang remained on his knees, scrubbing furiously at a particularly stubborn patch of grime in hopes Yun might pass over him. But luck was rarely on a servant's side.
"And Jang Hwan," Yun spat, snapping out Jang's name like a curse.
Jang immediately stopped and bowed forward on his hands and knees. "Yes, Head Servant!"
Yun's cane thumped inches from Jang's fingers. "Late to your duty again, weren't you? Think I didn't notice you rushing in?"
Jang's heart hammered. He pressed his forehead to the damp stone. "I… I went as fast as I could. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't." Yun sniffed. "You're fortunate I don't have time for a proper thrashing today. The Inner Sect has guests arriving by midday, and everything must be impeccable. I need every hand working." He swept a hawkish gaze over the three young servants. "After you finish here, go help in the kitchens. And don't even think of sneaking breakfast until the preparations are complete, understand?"
"Yes, sir," they mumbled in chorus.
Yun gave a final harrumph and turned on his heel. He stalked off, hollering at a pair of older servants to hurry with hanging some banners by the front gate.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Won-Il exhaled a long breath and shot Jang a sympathetic grimace. "That was close. I thought he'd beat you for sure."
Jang sat back, wiping sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking slightly from the rush of adrenaline. "Me too," he admitted.
Jisoo clicked her tongue, glancing in the direction Yun had gone. "Despotic old vulture," she muttered. "Someday he'll trip on that cane and break his neck."
Won-Il gave her a warning look, but Jang couldn't help a grim chuckle. The thought of Yun sprawled in the dirt, hoisted by his own temper, was a small, guilty comfort.
"Come on, we should hurry," Jang said, pushing himself to his feet. "We can't afford another surprise inspection."
Together they redoubled their efforts, scrubbing and rinsing until the courtyard stones gleamed pale silver in the morning light. By the time they finished, Jang's arms felt like lead and Jisoo was cursing under her breath at a blister on her palm.
They gathered their supplies quickly, pouring out the filthy water and stacking the brushes. The first of the Outer Disciples were beginning to filter in for their morning training, clustering at the far end of the yard with wooden practice swords. None spared so much as a glance for the trio of exhausted servants retreating toward the kitchen yard.
As they rounded a corner into a narrow alley between storehouses, Jang allowed himself to roll his shoulders and stretch his neck. The scent of steaming rice and spice from the kitchens made his empty stomach clench, but they wouldn't be allowed to eat until the noon meal, most likely. Servants ate after all others were served.
Won-Il rubbed his belly and sighed. "Smells good. Maybe we can sneak a taste if Cook isn't watching."
Jisoo shook her head. "You have a death wish? After last night, I wouldn't chance it. Not today."
Jang quietly agreed. Everyone was on edge after that rumored killing. The higher-ups would be looking for any excuse to make examples, to crush even the whisper of discontent. He wouldn't put it past Head Servant Yun to flog someone just to reassert control.
They entered the kitchen yard—a bustling space behind the main dining hall, where large cauldrons bubbled over fire pits and smoke curled into the air. A dozen other servants were already there, chopping vegetables, stoking flames, grinding spices. An older woman with forearms like ironwood stirred a pot of congee with a massive paddle.
Despite the frenzy, it was oddly comforting—the rich smells, the familiar clatter of clay pots. Here, Jang realized, he felt almost at ease. This was routine, a rhythm he knew.
"Oi, you three!" A plump man balancing a sack of rice on his shoulder beckoned them. It was Cook Dae, face flushed from the fire's heat. "Quit standing around. The guest feast won't cook itself!"
They hurried over. Cook Dae dumped the rice sack into Jang's arms without preamble. "Wash all of that and get it boiling. Girl—" he pointed at Jisoo, "start cutting those radishes. And you—sunburn," he addressed Won-Il, "help me with the broth here."
They scattered to their tasks. Jang lugged the rice to a washing basin. The sack was almost more than he could handle in his fatigued state; he half-dropped, half-set it by the basin, breathing hard. As he began measuring and pouring the grains into the water, voices drifted from the open kitchen door nearby.
"…arriving by noon, they said. An inspection tour or something."
"Inner sect business. None of ours, keep chopping."
"But I heard the Sect Leader himself might come down to greet—"
Jang perked his ears. Sect Leader? It was rare for the reclusive leader of Ironshadow Sect to appear in the outer grounds. Supposedly he spent all his time in meditation or high-level meetings in the Cloud Pavilion atop the mountain. If he was coming down… it must be a truly important guest.
His contemplation was cut short by a gentle elbow in his side. It was Won-Il, now beside him at the basin, rinsing greens. Won-Il kept his eyes on his work and spoke under his breath. "I saw your brother."
Jang almost dropped the wooden scoop into the rice. "Kwan? Where?" he asked quietly, glancing around.
Won-Il tilted his head toward the side gate beyond the kitchen yard. "He was with his master. Looked like they were headed to the front gate to receive somebody. He saw me, asked me to tell you to be careful today. And to keep your head down."
Jang nodded slowly, absorbing the message. That sounded like his older brother Jang Kwan—always watching out for him in his own curt way. They hadn't spoken in a few days; Kwan's duties attending an Inner Disciple kept him busy at almost all hours. Still, knowing his brother was nearby gave Jang a small measure of comfort.
"I will," Jang murmured back. "Thanks."
Won-Il simply shrugged, a sympathetic glint in his eyes. Jang knew Won-Il admired Kwan—most of the younger servants did. Kwan had a reputation for being disciplined, and unlike many senior servants, he never bullied those beneath him. If anything, he was distant but fair.
Jisoo soon joined them with a basket of sliced radish. "What are you two whispering about?" she asked, keeping her tone casual.
"Kwan's around," Jang said softly.
Jisoo raised her thin eyebrows. "Your brother? Here?"
"Probably escorting his master," Won-Il said. "There's some bigwig arriving."
Jisoo pursed her lips, looking both worried and intrigued. "Everything really is upside-down today, isn't it? Important guests, the Sect Leader possibly coming… It's like the heavens themselves are stirring. And after what happened last night—" She caught herself, lowering her voice further. "Maybe they're nervous. Think there'll be trouble?"
Won-Il frowned. "Shh. Don't talk like that."
Jang glanced around to ensure no one was listening to them instead of their own tasks. But everyone else seemed preoccupied. He turned back to scrubbing the rice. "If they're nervous, we should be even more careful," he said quietly. "Jisoo, after we finish here, maybe stay close to me or Kwan if you can. Just in case."
She gave him a wry smirk. "Afraid I'll start a fight, Jang?"
"I'm afraid someone might start one with you," he replied, managing a small grin.
Before she could answer, a sudden gong sounded from somewhere near the front of the complex—three resonant strikes that echoed off the stone walls. The bustle in the kitchen yard paused as every servant stopped to listen. Three gongs meant a high-ranked arrival or announcement.
"That must be the guests," Won-Il murmured, eyes shining with curiosity.
Some of the servants stood on tiptoe or edged toward the yard's entrance, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was arriving at the gate beyond. Jang found himself stepping aside to peek down the corridor that led back toward the main courtyard.
He could see a sliver of the front grounds from here. A small procession was entering: banner-men holding the sigils of Ironshadow Sect and another unfamiliar emblem—three swirling blue lines on a white field. In their midst walked a tall man in rich cobalt robes. Even from a distance, there was an aura about him that drew the eye—an easy grace and a certain poise. By the stranger's side was none other than the Ironshadow Sect's leader, Grandmaster Baek.
Jang's breath caught. Though he had served here three years, he had never once been this close to the Sect Leader. Baek was an older man in flowing black and silver robes, hair white as frost, face obscured partially by a ceremonial half-mask wrought of dark iron. He exuded authority like a thundercloud radiated stormlight. As the group passed, every disciple and servant in the vicinity prostrated themselves. Even from afar, Jang felt the weight of the Sect Leader's presence like a pressure in the air.
Just before they disappeared from view, Jang spotted his brother Kwan among the entourage, holding a position behind Grandmaster Baek. He looked so stiff and formal, expression blank, like a statue given life. For an instant, Kwan's gaze flickered aside, and Jang wondered if he was searching the sidelines—perhaps checking that Jang was keeping out of trouble, just as he'd advised.
Then the moment passed. The procession moved onward toward the inner courtyards, and the kitchen yard roared back to life. Servants rushed to finish the dishes that would be served to the honored guest and sect elders.
Jang returned to the basin and the half-washed rice, heart thumping. He could still picture the Sect Leader's masked face. Seeing such power and importance up close…it both fascinated and unsettled him. People like Grandmaster Baek and that cobalt-robed visitor were figures from another world, a world of privilege and might he could barely comprehend. Next to them, he was dust—insignificant, easily swept aside.
"Alright, show's over!" Cook Dae bellowed, clapping his hands. "Back to work, all of you, unless you want to be the next thing in my stew!"
A nervous laugh rippled through the gathered servants. Jang forced himself to smile at Cook's dark joke and plunged his hands back into the cool water. He worked quietly, lost in thought as the morning wore on.
By late morning, the kitchen was filled with aromatic steam and clatter. Huge platters of food were being ferried out by relay teams of servants to the reception hall. Jang, Jisoo, and Won-Il spent hours chopping, boiling, and stirring under Cook Dae's watchful eye. Despite the tension, Jang took a small pride in watching the fruits of their labor line up: glazed ducks, spiced porridge, pickled vegetables arranged like flower petals. None of it, of course, would touch their own tongues, but creating something fine even in the shadows was its own reward.
It was nearing midday when Kwan appeared in the doorway of the kitchen yard. Jang noticed him first and straightened from the tub of dishes he was scrubbing. His brother looked as composed as ever, though Jang could detect the faint crease of fatigue around his eyes. Kwan must have been up all night preparing for the guest's arrival.
"Brother," Jang whispered, barely containing his surprise. Kwan rarely came down to the servant areas while on duty.
Kwan raised a hand slightly, indicating Jang should stay put. With a respectful nod to Cook Dae (who bobbed his head deferentially in return), Kwan crossed to Jang.
"How are you holding up?" Kwan asked, voice low but firm.
"I'm alright," Jang replied quickly. "We've been working non-stop, but nothing out of the ordinary." He hesitated, then added, "Won-Il said you left me a warning. Thank you."
Kwan's dark eyes flicked to Jisoo and Won-Il, who stood nearby pretending not to eavesdrop. "You three stay safe. Today of all days, no mistakes."
Jisoo bowed her head. "We will, Senior Kwan."
A ghost of a wry smile touched Kwan's lips at her formal address—after all, he had known Jisoo as long as Jang had. But his posture remained stiff. He lowered his voice further. "There are important eyes watching everything. The guest…he's from the Azure Sky Clan. A core elder there. Very high status. The Sect Leader doesn't want anything amiss."
Jang exchanged a glance with Won-Il. The Azure Sky Clan was a powerful martial clan in Murim, if he recalled correctly—rivals to some sects. The fact that an elder from a clan was here, being treated with such honor, was curious. Perhaps an alliance was in discussion, or a negotiation.
"We'll be invisible," Jang assured.
Kwan nodded and placed a hand briefly on Jang's shoulder, an unusual gesture of open affection from his reserved brother. "After the feast, I'll come find you," he murmured. "I have some leftover poultices from my master's stores. I heard you coughing last night."
Jang flushed slightly. He hadn't realized Kwan was aware of that. "I'm fine, truly—"
"You'll take the medicine," Kwan said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Stay strong." With that, he withdrew his hand and took a step back, inclining his head to all of them. "Work hard."
Then he pivoted and left as quickly as he'd come, back stiff, stride sure.
Won-Il let out a low whistle once Kwan was out of sight. "He must really be worried. I've never seen him so...expressive."
Jisoo smiled faintly. "He cares for you, Jang. You're lucky to have someone looking out for you here."
"I know," Jang said softly, returning to scrubbing the pot in front of him. A warmth had bloomed in his chest despite the morning's grim undertone. No matter how brutal the Ironshadow Sect was, at least he wasn't alone in it—he had a brother, and friends, thin shields though they might be against the iron weight above.
The chaotic afternoon passed in a blur of labor. After the guests and elders had been served and began eating, the servants finally received their portion of the meal—thin porridge and leftover scraps—devoured in haste behind the kitchens. Jang savored even the meager food; after hours of smelling rich dishes, any bite was relief.